Zeitnot, and other stories
by Ember Nickel
Summary: Based on prompts given at the Animorphs Fanfic Lounge see Sinister Shadow's profile for link as we reread the series. Chapter 2: "Forgiveness Ceremony", based on book 8. "Zeitnot", based on The Ellimist Chronicles.
1. Zeitnot

_Author's note: these stories are based on prompts at the Animorphs Fanfic Lounge (link available through Sinister Shadow's profile) as we reread the series. This prompt was to write a one-shot dealing with Ellimist and Crayak's game or relationship._

"Your move, Ellimist."

The system was not a particularly interesting one. But from the planet where the order to our game had began, the planet I considered a home base of sorts, the star would someday blaze bright in the evening sky. Perhaps sentient life, if it ever emerged there, would trace it into a pattern: a bird, a pack animal…even a musical instrument. Could my adversary know how much that meant to me? Surely not.

I focused on his move. A curious one, for him: he had heightened the inquisitive spirit of the species that dominated the only inhabited planet. They would develop space travel within a generation or two. All fine.

They were not an overtly aggressive species, but had not made contact with other civilizations. They'd made a pact, following a disruptive conflict, to put an end to intraspecies warfare, and were so far succeeding. With an unprecedented emphasis on scientific research, they would discover more of the universe and invent more devices. Their lives seemed about to enter an age of unprecedented affluence.

I searched for the catch.

More inventions, more machines, more…pollution? More of the star's lifegiving rays would be reflected back into the atmosphere by the gases emitted, eventually causing the already-expansive seas to rise. Without interference, it could easily become a world of water.

Was it worthwhile to intervene here? It was frustrating to envision how something plagiarized from my playbook could backfire so utterly. The race's greatest triumphs were not yet ahead, and already my doom was assured.

I knew I could not simply undo his actions. Such strategy eventually negated the entire point, and I would be betraying something important. Progress was critical. If I was to stay in this system, I would have to transcend my opponent, not cancel him out.

Perhaps I was best off elsewhere. There were so many planets I had to work with: I scanned cautiously, looking at the results of our most recent moves. As predicted. No new complications to consider.

I could not get my mind (all that was left of me, really) off the system where he had last intervened. It was too disappointing, too ironic for me to accept defeat.

But I was unsure how to proceed. Various actions and their nearly-inevitable implications raced through my thoughts. I could save the species, I was sure, but didn't know how much it would matter in the long run. I sought my opponent's perspective: what did he have to gain from the elimination of this race, specifically? I couldn't be sure.

They would have to adapt, in the end: if not this, something else. A future sentient species, perhaps not even their descendants, would someday walk the surface of the planet. Or would they swim its seas?

Regardless, I became convinced that my best hope was in the next species to dominate that world: a mutated version of the current one, or perhaps an alteration of some barely-perceptible bacteria? Not even I could be sure how history would play out, only what might be.

My best move lay in the "future", as much as I could call anything that. Time barely had meaning for us, but order did: first me, than him, then me again. But my highest probabilities of success would come from intervening at some critical junction neither of us could foresee.

So I waited. Calmly, quietly, not drawing attention to my delay. I knew he would notice eventually.

"What's taking you so long? Surely this scenario is not too difficult for the mighty Ellimist?" he mocked.

"Not at all," I said serenely.

"Then what will you do?"

"Wait until I'm ready."

"When will you be ready?"

"Later."

"Remember why we play, Ellimist: a game you don't play is no better than no game at all."

"There is no time limit."

"But you could take forever here."

"I know."

"Move, then, or the game's as good as over."

"In time," I assured him.

Time was on neither of our sides.

Perhaps there was some way to make it variable? If he and I could be held accountable to the residents of the galaxy, both of our powers would be reduced. And since I was the one who suggested we step back, that had to help me more than it did him. But how to create something that altered time? Could it be altered? I was both outside and within it, not moving though like the living beings that would use whatever contraption I devised.

No, that wasn't quite right. I couldn't be sure how my game would end, which meant that something remained unknowable to me. The future was indeterminate.

"…only singular matrices have null determinants…" The voice sounded like my own-well, no. When I talked to myself as often as I did, every voice was mine. This sounded like the original me-a Ketran.

We had all sorts of geniuses aboard the MCQ3, hadn't we? A theoretician, a mathematician. "So whatever they interact with…will be a singularity, the naked core of the overall matrix."

Yes. Yes. And I was creating it, forming a quiet sphere that materialized into real space.

"Keep this safe," I trusted my lieutenants, the Pemalites. "There's a planet I know where you can hide it if it comes to that-but not too safe." No, the creatures needed to discover this for themselves. My creation put power in their hands, and that power could and would be used for good: given the choice, people preferred life over death.


	2. Forgiveness Ceremony

_Author's note: No prompts anymore, so this will be updated whenever inspiration strikes. (( and )) indicate thoughtspeak._

_This one comes from book 8._

I don't like water.

I mean, it's fine to drink and all that, right? Necessary for the whole "survival" thing, granted. But just being, you know, _in_ it? Around it? Nope. Not for me.

Not anymore.

I went swimming a couple of times as a kid, sure, but it's not like I had a pool to go to or anything. I'd float on my back, looking up at the sky.

Point is, I'm not comfortable in the water. And yet, here I am, hovering less than a foot above it. Like I could be comfortable anyway.

I look down. My reflection gazes back fiercely at me, distorted a little bit. Cautiously, I lower my talon.

Nope, can't do it. I take off, spiraling above the river.

Maybe I should have asked Ax, but it's not something I really want to talk to him about. There are different rituals, I know: the one where he steps in the stream, the one where he doesn't…All right, this is going to be one of the ones where water just isn't involved, period.

I alight on a tall branch and look out over the forest, trying to summon up the face in my mind. Odd that it appears effortlessly but now, now that I'm trying to be deliberate about it, I can't bring myself to do it. I really, really, don't want to think about this anymore.

But I do.

((I'm sorry.)) Let's start with the basics. ((I-you know what I did, and why, it worked out for the best. So…))

This isn't awkward at all.

((Forgive me, please.))

And nothing happens. Didn't expect anything too, of course. Though now I don't know what I _did_ expect.

((Did you have to swear an oath? What do you swear by?))

It's bad enough I'm addressing a dead…person, doing it in the present tense is just _weird_. Maybe I'm talking to all of them.

((But you would have broken it, to help us. So…thanks?))

Nothing's settled. Nothing's going to be easy anymore. This is war-this is how I'm going to live now.

But even in wars like these, there can still be heroes.


End file.
